He fought and we all won
by phoenixcri
Summary: Just an ending that I wrote out a few hours ago. It came to me, and when things like that happen I just have to write it out. It's what happens after Harry defeats Lord Voldemort. Please review if you read!


Ron, Ginny, and Hermione waited in Dumbledore's office. Ron was staring at the ashes of Phawx, and a sniffle could be heard from Ginny once or twice.  
Hermione gazed out the window from Dumbledore's window seat, eyes glossed over. She seemed beyond a point of crying. They sat in silence for what seemed like days.  
All of a sudden, a crack erupted from the center of the room. Ginny screamed and Hermione leapt up from her seat. Dumbledore stood in the middle of the room, his face disgruntled. Dirt was matted in his beard and his robes were ripped. Blood dripped from his right sleeve, but he didn't seem to notice. He was back, which meant that Voldermort wasn't. Voldermort was dead. But where was Harry..?  
"Harry won!" Ron screamed, smiling. He looked over at Hermione excitedly, surprised to find a grave look upon her face.  
"Yes, he fought a brave fight. He defeated the Lord Voldermort."  
Hermione, her voice cracking, said, "Then.. Where is he?" She seemed to take a step back.  
Dumbledore removed his hat, bowing his head slightly.  
Before he could even say anything, Hermione fell to the floor, small noises erupting from her throat.  
  
Dumbledore stood up at the front of the courtyard, finishing his speech proudly.  
"...We thought of him as a fine Quidditch player. We thought of him as a fine friend. We thought very well of Mr. Harry Potter..."  
Even the Dursleys had shown up. Hermione sat with the Weasleys and her parents. She wasn't crying. She stared straight ahead, though she didn't seem to be present at the funeral. Ron was silently crying, though not hiding his face.  
"... He killed Voldermort, for the second and final time. We will no longer fear to utter his name in public, for we will be proud..." The casket was oak, with white lace surrounding the brim. His broom and other prized possessions lay to the right of the mount. Everybody was surrounding the front in small pullout chairs. Most people had no seats, and were left to stand in the back. The funeral was outside, on a sunny day. Odd weather for a funeral, yet, as Mr. Weasley reminded them—Harry did not deserve a gloomy departion. "He deserves good weather and high spirits, as he gave us" he assured anybody nearby, though what looked as if he was assuring mainly himself, previous to the ceremony. ".. Our student, our friend, our confidant, saved us. He saved us again. We will not forget him in our own struggle through life. We will not forget the boy who lived."  
Dumbledore stepped off the pulpit and sank back down in his seat wearily.  
Hermione stood up, and walked to the pulpit as the Professor had done. She cleared her throat and looked down and tried to unfold the piece of paper she had clutched so tightly in her hand.  
"Harry was there when nobody came  
Without him here, it won't be the same  
No matter what trouble would come his way  
He always won, be what it may  
At age eleven, he was already smart  
He taught me to love with all of my heart  
In our second year, when I had to be saved  
He told me to wait, and always be brave  
Third year came, patience was learned  
And whoever did bad got what they deserved  
Fourth year was tested with fights and strife  
But he showed us how to go on with our life  
Fifth year we learned that we weren't always right  
But no matter what, we would stay and fight  
Age sixteen was hard on as all  
We remembered the saying, "divided we fall"  
This year I learned best of the above:  
The thing that defeats is always the love  
Now after the fight, here comes the sun  
And we can sleep now, because he has won." She stood at the pulpit, not daring to look up at the crowd.  
Everybody left their seats quietly, one by one. Hermione, however, stayed behind. Nobody asked as to why, to Hermione's advantage, not many seemed to notice.  
When everybody had cleared, Hermione tiptoed around to the front where his casket lay. She merely touched the lace that covered the oak- framed picture of him smiling that was mounted up on top of a wooden table. She almost smiled also, as though remembering a happy memory. She bent down, lowering her face to the oak.  
"You will always be my hero," She whispered, giving a final kiss to his casket. Her eyes closed and her face turned grave, and she left before she started to cry. 


End file.
